Renascentia Tempore
by PenroseFulcrum
Summary: Being the Last Dragonborn might have more implications than being the one to defeat Alduin... After all, whenever has a world truly been saved so easily, especially with so many potential world-ending threats active? Might be best considered an AU due to a Dragonbreak, pairings (if any) are undecided.


**Skyrim: Renascentia Tempore**

 **Hel's Gates**

 **Disclaimer:** I did not create nor do I own The Elder Scrolls, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or any of its expansions, associated lore or related materials. Bethesda does though; I am just playing around in their world.

Therris slowly came to, his ears twitching as he took in the constant, irksome squeaking of cart wheels as they rumbled across paving stones and his head dizzy from the constant rocking of the cart transporting him. Growling lowly to himself, he rapidly blinked his eyes, hoping to clear the blurriness from his vision and was rewarded a few seconds later to the sight of a pristine, snow-covered evergreen forest canopy trundling by with a dreary, overcast sky beyond. Wonderful, not only had he been kidnapped and tossed in a cart like a sack of potatoes, but he did not even get the sight of a clear blue sky to cheer him up. Well, at least considering the size of his frame, it was probably easier to leave him lie on the floorboards than wrestle him into a sitting position. His tail was at least thankful for the inconvenience.

"Hey, the cat's awake." A voice said… or maybe whispered, it was sometimes hard to tell when what other races considered whispering was still easily heard, particularly considering how groggy he was currently.

"Hey, you, you're finally awake?" Another voice asked, his accent distinctly Nordic, and Therris sat up slightly to focus on the man who had spoken, only to notice that he was surrounded by other people in the cart. So much for situational awareness… Master Atius would be so disappointed in him, particularly since one of them happened to have his tail underfoot. Since it did not hurt, he imagined they were not stepping on it at least. Other than that and the troubling lack of weapons, he seemed to be in good condition, they had even left his armor on. Then again, the dark leather kilt he wore could hardly be considered armor, even when combined with the leather wrappings around his forearms, hands and the elongated metatarsals of his hind paws. Truthfully, it could hardly be considered anything more than a token amount of clothing to preserve his modesty – and only just barely at that, since his kilt had been intended for an Imperial's five to six-foot tall frame than his own eight-foot Cathay-raht physique. Granted, while his decision to wear a kilt was at least partially a matter of personal preference, there was a more practical side to his choice of attire. As an assassin his preferred tactic of ambushing opponents, combined with the camouflage provided by his own unusual melanistic black fur, meant that the saying 'less is more' applied rather aptly to him in terms of clothing and camouflage. Even when processed or colored with tannins or dyes that produced darker shades, he had discovered that his fur still tended to blend in better with shadows than his clothing. According to Master Atius, contrasting or inconsistent colors in darkened areas were more likely to draw attention as the eye was drawn to such discrepancies, so he kept such contrast to a minimum. Thankfully, there was always Alteration magic to replace armor: Oakflesh in particular was useful for that. The wrappings, on the other hand, were simply a matter of practicality rather than aesthetic considerations. Aside from additional protection for his limbs, they were useful for hiding extra daggers, needles or small metal vials containing the various brands of concentrated poison one could purchase.

Apparently his captors had not missed that possibility, nor had they missed the earring in his right ear that had a 'decorative' spike on it. Though their thoroughness was impressive – and slightly distressing – he still cursed their competence. The lack of weapons unfortunately meant that he was basically stuck in a cart going who-knows-where with his armor, claws and defensive spells as his only trump cards. The rope sort of took his claws out of the equation, particularly since they had been smart enough to tie his wrists together in a way that prevented him from actually clawing at the rope. Not a good situation to be in, honestly, and all too reminiscent of the many times he had been hauled off to prison over the course of his twenty-four years of life. At least the other times he had known why he was going to prison… Last he remembered he had been crossing into Skyrim to follow up on a tip that his target had sought refuge among the Nords. But, just his luck, he had gotten caught up in someone else's trap.

"Took a hit too many to the head, eh?" the same voice from before asked suddenly, breaking Therris out of his musings and alerting him to the fact that a number of the other occupants in the cart were watching him. Were it not for the fact that they all seemed to be in a similar state of incapacity as him, he would have cursed his lack of situational awareness once again. As it was though… Rather than say anything, Therris simply shrugged, which the other man seemed to accept as an answer as he continued. "You were trying to cross the border, right?"

Still choosing to keep his silence for the time being, Therris simply nodded, seeing no harm in letting his fellow prisoner know that much at least.

"Eh, you walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there." The man continued, gesturing toward the only man in the cart not wearing blue cloaks and armor. Therris could not help but notice he had ignored the Bosmer woman sitting across from him, though given the recent war between elves and men, he guessed that might be understandable. Of course, Elsweyr was aligned with the elves so… Thinking about it made his head hurt, so he tuned back into the conversation just as the excluded man finishing cursing the other man and… the Stormcloaks? It sounded like he had missed some important happenings in Skyrim that he should have known about before trying to enter the province.

"… Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." The man, now identified as a horse thief, continued before turning to look down at Therris. "You there, you and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The Nord who had first spoken replied, ignoring the half-hearted snort from the Bosmer. Therris had to agree, what a way to be included in the group.

"Shut up back there." The soldier driving their cart announced suddenly, apparently just as impressed with their bickering as Therris and the Bosmer were.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" The thief asked immediately afterward, evidently deciding that annoying their driver with continued bickering was not the best idea in Mundus.

"Watch your tongue!" the 'Stormcloak' scolded immediately. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

"Ulfric?" the thief asked, his voice hushed. "Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion… If they've captured you… Oh-"

Anything further the man had to say was cut off by the Bosmer. "They're taking us to the chopping block, that's all, no need to cause a ruckus."

"Aye, Sovngarde awaits…" the Stormcloak agreed, looking back toward the front of the cart and their intended destination.

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The horse thief cried in denial, the Bosmer glancing at him with a pitying look before the Stormcloak turned back to him. For his part, Therris felt sorry for the poor guy, but there was not much any of them could do… though panicking like that was hardly conducive to finding a way to escape.

"Hey… what village are you from, horse thief?" the Stormcloak asked, apparently trying to get the man to calm down.

"Why do you care?!" The man shot back, apparently not at all soothed by the question. Not that Therris could blame him, now was hardly to time to be thinking on such things as home, not when contemplating a means of escape would be more productive.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The Stormcloak replied and Therris reflected on the absurdity of such a statement, what with a Bosmer and a Khajiit also riding in the cart. Even taking into consideration that he was not really from Elsweyr, thoughts of Cyrodiil were the last thing he wanted to be thinking of, much like he suspected that thoughts of Valenwood were the farthest thing from the Bosmer's mind. Still, that little saying seemed to work, with the thief calming down somewhat.

"Rorikstead… I'm… I'm from Rorikstead." The man got out at last, his voice still quivering from fear of what was soon to come.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" an Imperial called out suddenly and Therris could not help but roll his eyes. That certainly was not going to help their companion calm down and the timing of it was proof that fate had quite the sadistic sense of humor.

"Good, let's get this over with." A grim, more authoritative voice replied a second later as their Stormcloak 'friend' glanced back toward the road ahead and the thief began frantically beseeching the Divines for help. Of course, when the sky was momentarily blocked out by the walkway of a fortified gate it became abundantly clear that no help was going to come soon enough. Ignoring the chatter of the townspeople around them, Therris considered the irony of his situation: he was going to be executed for crimes he did not commit while somehow escaping punishment for the assassinations he had managed to pull off. Irony was a cruel mistress… actually, no, she was a cruel b-tch but he doubted the recent downgrade in status should be much of a concern of his at the moment. It was at that moment that the Stormcloak said something which really caught his attention.

"…the Thalmor are with him. D-mn elves, I bet they had something to do with this." Fantastic, it looked like he would not escape them after all. Still…

"I doubt they've much to do with this." Therris growled, the others in the cart looking down at him in surprise. Not surprising, he had made no indication that he really understood them and Khajiit were 'just dumb animals,' a façade he would have been happy to keep up… were it not for the fact that pretending to be simple would not benefit anyone in this situation. Though why he would defend the Thalmor of all people… his fur bristled in suppressed rage at the thought of defending those filth.

When he finally noticed that the looks did not abate after a few seconds, the Cathay-raht sighed and decided to explain. "Why would the Thalmor – avowed enemies of the Empire – want to help with something that supports the unity of the Empire? Better the Empire lose men putting down rebellion than killing elves in the next war. It's more effective to let your enemy kill both their soldiers and their potential recruits at the same time than doing so yourself. So unless there's some other overriding reason –"

"It's because the Stormcloaks threaten their prohibition regarding the reverence of Talos." The Bosmer interrupted after it became clear no one else was willing or able to. "They're really quite obsessive about all that, seems like they see it as more a threat than the Empire is. Probably because it might mean men are equal or superior to mer."

Therris blinked at that. He had not realized this was all about _**that**_ particular clause of the White-Gold Concordat, though admittedly that might be a result of his own heritage. The Bosmer had a point though; the Thalmor would likely give up any other benefit that they might gain from the situation if it meant putting down 'heretics.'

After a few moments of awkward silence following her statement, the Stormcloak finally decided to speak again, likely for no other reason than to give everyone something else to focus on. At least, that was what Therris figured from what the man was talking about. "This is Helgen… I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in… Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

"That is their purpose; all that's changed is you. At least you can take comfort in the fact they still keep the people inside them safe." Therris rumbled, deciding not to mention how easy it was to actually bypass such fortifications as long as you avoided the watch. Pointing that out would most certainly not do him any favors, not if he wanted to have a chance at the Imperial prosecutors recognizing him as 'innocent.' Granted it was not a good chance but rule number three was always be looking for ways out of a bad situation. Besides, keeping up the pointless banter was not a bad idea when you considered the alternatives. Unfortunately, neither the Bosmer nor the Stormcloak seemed willing to rise to his bait, apparently distracted by the child questioning his father about who they were and where they were going.

Only a short time later, as they began slowing, did it become apparent why the father had shooed his son inside: the family's house evidently overlooked the execution plaza. Therris considered for a moment that they might want to look for another house, after all, being able to see the beheading block outside your window every morning was probably not good for a child. Then again, he might just be thinking that because his own view of it was soon to be less than healthy for him.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" A rather haughty woman's voice suddenly shouted, indicating just how close to their final destination they really were.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief suddenly cried out, the situation apparently coming back to him in full along with his panic. Therris figured a view of your execution site would do that sort of thing to a man unused to death.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The Stormcloak answered grimly.

"There's hardly a need for that." Therris groused. "The least you could do before the end is apologize for dragging us into this." It was true enough: some might say he deserved death for his crimes, but he had always hoped his death would be either an 'old age after his mate had died' sort of deal or being taken down in battle.

Unfortunately, anything that the Stormcloak might have said after that was cut off as the cart rolled to a stop and Therris saw an Imperial appear at the back, gesturing for them to get out of their wagon. Apparently determined to be defiant to the last, the Stormcloak made one last comment about not keeping the Divines waiting as Therris rolled up onto his hind-paws, leaving him standing about midway down the cart.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" the thief protested desperately, even as he followed 'Jarl Ulfric' out of their transport.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." The Stormcloak countered in an admonishing tone while Therris honestly felt like making his last act on Nirn being the act of clawing the man's face off. Honestly, berating the man for panicking due to a situation you caused was just unnecessary, particularly considering that it meant that man was going to die. Therris knew he would at least be apologizing. It might not help, but at least he was not so callous as to spout mottos about 'bravery in the face of death' to a man who had likely never dealt with death personally before.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" the thief pleaded as the group in the cart began assembling in front of what appeared to be an Imperial Captain accompanied by a soldier with a stack of papers in hand.

"Step towards the block when we call your name! One at a time!" the captain called out, as though they were going to eagerly rush toward the chopping block at any moment.

"Empire loves their d-mn lists." The Stormcloak behind him sighed as he jumped down besides Therris, the eight-foot tall Cathay-raht dwarfing the proud Nord.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm." The soldier holding the list announced as the Bosmer landed gracefully behind Therris.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric!" the Stormcloak beside him declared as the bear skin-cloaked man marched forward to take his place in the execution line.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The soldier announced next, the Stormcloak marching forward much as his Jarl had done. Well, at least he knew his name now… if Ralof survived somehow but he did not at least he knew the name of the man he would spend his afterlife haunting.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." The man announced, the thief in front of him shifting nervously as the name was called. Therris recognized that shift, the man was about to run… he would have stopped him, but a sudden death due to an arrow in the back with the hope of escape was a far more merciful death than watching your fate be played out in front of you several dozen times before it was your turn. To ask the man to stay for that… it seemed crueler than letting him commit suicide by running.

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir shouted, pausing only an instant before he took off running toward the town gate.

"Halt!" the captain shouted, her command ignored as Lokir continued running.

"You're not gonna kill me!"

"Archers!" the captain called and Therris turned away just as he saw several arrows drop Lokir before he could clear the plaza. "Anyone else feel like running?"

Now that was unnecessary, Therris thought as the soldier looked back at his list and back up at both him and the Bosmer before frowning.

"Wait, you two, step forward." The soldier called, the frown on his face deepening as he noticed the Bosmer who had been largely hidden behind Therris' large body. Seeing no reason beyond the obvious why he should not comply and several armed reasons why he should, Therris strode up to the soldier, the Bosmer woman coming to a halt beside him a moment later. "Who are you?"

At that, Therris had to blink. Considering he was not on the list, they might see no reason to… no, that was not how this was going to play out.

"Allasa of Whiterun." The Bosmer announced suddenly, surprising Therris. The fact that she identified herself as from a Nordic city might indicate that, like him, she was an expatriate from her usual homeland. Interesting, though he supposed it was somewhat irrelevant.

"And you?" the soldier continued, pointing at Therris with his quill pen.

"Do'Therris." He replied simply, considering he had no home to speak of anyway.

"What are you two doing here? Sell swords? Smugglers? Cutthroats? Or something more legitimate like merchants?" the soldier asked as he checked the list once again then writing their names on a separate sheet before turning to his commander. "Captain, what should we do? They're not on the list."

"Forget the list, they go to the block like the rest." The captain replied, crossing her arms in a rather smug manner before nodding slightly for emphasis.

"By your orders captain." The soldier said with a least a hint of resignation before turning back to them. "I'm sorry; we'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr and Valenwood. Follow the captain, both of you."

And with that rather grim promise and order, the captain walked past them, her demeanor all but commanding them to follow or die by archers. Unwilling to run, Therris followed the captain, followed closely by his new Bosmer companion, the two of them taking their place in the long line of Stormcloaks waiting for their 'turn' at the block. Before them stood Ulfric, who was being confronted by a middle-aged Imperial and, on the other side of the beheading block, an executioner, several more Imperial legionnaires, the captain and a Priestess of the Divines. Seeing that everyone was in position, the Imperial turned to face Ulfric and began the usual sentencing speech that preceded executions. Because despite what his Stormcloak 'companion' might believe, the Mede Empire truly loved nothing more than making speeches and moral posturing.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero." The man began in the same voice that had replied to the earlier call when they were at the gates. Therris quickly concluded this must be General Tullius then, even as he listened to the man continue. "But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric's muffled grunt was morbidly amusing, although his ability to use this 'Voice' probably was why he was muzzled in the first place. For his part, Tullius just continued. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace."

A sudden, odd yet distant howl or roar interrupted the general, causing all present to glance around, their unease at the eerie call palpable. By the time Therris was finally paying attention to the proceedings in front of him again, Tullius was speaking once more, though his words and sudden haste gave lie to his reassurance.

"It's nothing, carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius." The captain replied eagerly before turning to the priestess. "Give them their last rites."

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…" The priestess started before she trailed off as one of the Stormcloaks eagerly and angrily stomped forward, griping about the length of her speech. Apparently someone did not want to be late to their funeral, Therris thought drily as the man took his place at the block.

"As you wish…" the Priestess of Arkay said, her tone more than slightly miffed at the disrespect the Stormcloak was showing while the Imperials just watched the man incredulously.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning." The overly-eager Nord grumbled, just as the captain walked up behind him and pushed him down into position while he continued to deride them. "My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials, can you say the same?"

Therris was fairly sure his ancestors would have preferred he die so soon for a greater cause than impatience, watching as the headsman's ax cleanly severed the man's head from his body, the captain kicking the corpse to one side casually before the blood had even finished spurting from the neck stump.

"You Imperial b-stards!" a nearby female Stormcloak shouted, to which some of the surrounding crowd countered with cries of "Justice!" and "Death to the Stormcloaks!" Ralof, in the meantime, merely honored his fallen comrade with a quiet comment on his bravery, stating he was as fearless in death as he was in life.

"Next, the elf!" the captain shouted suddenly, sending a suspicious glare toward the Bosmer who had continued to lurk in his shadow. A moment later and the same hollow cry from before echoed overhead, drawing everyone's attention to it.

"There it is again! Did you hear that?" the bookkeeper from before asked, glancing about warily as everyone else scanned the sky.

"I said, next prisoner!" the captain shouted, clearly fed up with the other's paranoia. In response, the record-keeping soldier sighed and gestured the Bosmer forward. "To the block prisoner, nice and easy."

Without hesitation, the elf strode forward, showing her apparent 'hiding' had been more due to luck of positioning rather than actual cowardice. Reaching the block, she laid her head on the bloody wooden slab without letting the captain lay a hand on her, glaring at the headsman and arrogant Imperial with disdain to let them know what she thought of their 'justice.' Therris could not help but chuckle lightly; had they more time, he would have liked to get to know that Bosmer better… Well, there was always Aetherius.

So focused was he on the Bosmer, he did not even notice anything amiss until Tullius suddenly cried out: "What in Oblivion is that?!"

Looking up just in time to catch the massive flying beast gliding overhead, he could not help but scoff as he heard to captain demand a report from her sentries. As if she could not see the creature if she looked, it was right- Everything else was lost as the creature landed on the tower above them, its touchdown shaking the ground as it glared at him and the Bosmer. He was dimly aware of someone shouting "Dragon!" in alarm before the beast roared, a shockwave knocking everyone off their feet as the skies above turned to fire and churning storm clouds.

"Don't just stand there, kill that thing!" Tullius shouted as the fire descended as blazing meteors, smashing into buildings, ground and people with equal brutality, the flames spreads as the rocks broke apart on impact. "Defend the town and the civilians!"

Ignored by the Imperials and Stormcloaks alike, Therris dashed forward and scooped up the Bosmer from where she had been knocked to the ground just as the dragon blasted several Imperials and Stormcloaks away with another roar, the men and women leaving bloody smears on the stone walls they collided with before slumping lifelessly to the ground. Another roar and the roof of a nearby house was torn off, the debris landing on fleeing civilians and soldiers rushing to reinforce the men in the courtyard. Amidst the chaos, Therris was dimly aware of some of the Stormcloaks battling their Imperial captors, wondering at the foolhardiness of such an action before another roar from the dragon sent him and the Bosmer tumbling back into the carts, the wood splintering as he took the brunt of the impact.

He must have hit harder than he thought, because the next thing he was aware of, Ralof was trying to haul him up while shouting at him. "Hey, cat! Get up! Come on, the Divines won't give us another chance."

Blinking to clear his vision, Therris finally made out the Stormcloak just as the man turned and made for a nearby tower with a shout of "This way!" Pulling the Bosmer back into his arms, he quickly followed, barely taking the time to note the utter devastation the dragon had and was wreaking on the town around them. For the time being at least, it seemed more interested in the men trying to fight it than the escaped prisoners and though Therris hated to leave the Imperials to their fate – regardless of how their leadership had treated him – without weapons or his claws he could not even defend himself, much less them.

Thankfully, they made it to the surprisingly unscathed keep without incident, Therris laying the Bosmer – Allasa, that was her name – against the wall only to notice she was not quite as disabled as he had thought. He was just about to inquire about it when a slightly more pressing matter was raised by Ralof.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric replied, his tone an odd combination of serious consideration and derision. Likely because it was an Imperial town, Therris figured.

In the short quiet following his statement, Therris knelt down beside the Bosmer, deciding to check on her condition. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, though I'll admit; you were surprisingly willing to protect me out there."

"Is that a-" Therris began to ask before the tower shuddered around them and Ulfric announced they needed to leave immediately. Following Ralof's suggestion, both Therris and the now mobile elf scrambled up the stairs, quickly reaching a section that had collapsed and was being cleared out by other Stormcloaks.

"We just need to move some-" one of the soldiers began, his statement ending in an agonized cry as the dragon burst through the wall and smashed him against the fallen stones, his bloodied corpse tumbling to the ground floor as Therris barely managed to avoided being knocked off himself.

"Get back!" Ralof shouted just as the beast withdrew and bathed the entire landing in flame, reducing the other soldiers there to ash before the monster flew off in search of other, more easily dispatched prey. In its wake, Therris and Ralof moved back up the stairs, the Stormcloak reaching the new opening first and pointing to a half demolished building below. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going!"

Looking back at his other companion, Therris was relieved when Allasa nodded to indicate she could follow and made his way to the breech, pausing only to judge the distance between keep and 'inn.' Likely mistaking his assessment for hesitance, Ralof nudged him forward. "Go! We'll follow you when we can!"

Needing no further prompting, Therris jumped – his natural physical prowess and digitigrade legs making the jump remarkably easy – and landed with the expected feline grace, ignoring how the timbers creaked under his weight in favor of making sure Allasa made the jump. She did so easily, landing beside him with nary a sound and making her way through the ruined attic, both of them listening to the enraged or irritated roars of the dragon outside to try and determine if it was coming for the building they were in.

Fortunately for them, it seemed the creature had other priorities and they made their way out of the crumbling tavern without trouble only to stumble upon an Imperial squad a short distance away. Trapped by debris, they had little choice but to head toward the Imperials, coming up beside the bookkeeper from before just as the dragon landed and attempted to incinerate a young boy. Thankfully, the soldier was able to pull him out of the way in time and get behind cover himself, the entire group waiting behind cover as the dragon reduced timber and bodies to nothing more than ash in the wind before taking off again. Only several seconds later, after they managed to calm down, did the Imperial notice the two unexpected interlopers, an odd expression of relief slipping across his face for a brief instant before his professional mask slipped back in place.

"Both of you still alive? Good, keep close to me if you want to stay that way." The man announced a moment later before sending the boy with the rest of his men to get out of the town as quickly as possible. This also gave Therris a moment to consider their options… which were admittedly few. Alright then, follow the Imperial seemed to be the best option.

Correctly taking their lack of protest as agreement, the Imperial took off, leading them through a ruined clearing in the town and behind a ruined house. After pausing for a minute to let the dragon take off again after cremating a few Imperials and Stormcloaks, he led them away from the wall and through several more ruined buildings before reaching an open area where a number of Imperials were fighting the beast while trying to get the citizens to safety. Therris barely had time to recognize one of the men as Tullius – appreciating how he stood with his men rather than run – before the dragon swooped by, raining fire down on an entire row of Imperials before soaring out of range when the archers counterattacked.

"Hadvar!" The general shouted suddenly as he saw the trio. "Get into the keep! We're leaving!"

"Aye, general." The soldier, Hadvar apparently, replied before turning to both of them. "It's just us three, stay close!"

"Run you idiots!" the general interrupted, shoving Hadvar in the general direction of the actual keep just as the dragon swooped low overhead and flattened another group of soldiers with a loud roar. Taking the hint, Hadvar took off for the keep; Therris and Allasa close behind him as the dragon wheeled around for another pass.

This time however, it spotted both the Cathay-raht and Bosmer and turned its flight into a dive, smashing into the ground right in front of Therris and slowly rising up, looming over him with a malevolent gleam in its eyes. Whatever it planned would have to wait though, as a full volley of dozens of arrows pierced the monster's head, neck and chest, the dragon roaring in some archaic yet oddly recognizable language as it turned to burn the offending soldiers to ash. Taking the opportunity, both Therris and Allasa raced around the beast and through the gate in the keep's wall, quickly joined by Hadvar once he noticed they were safe.

Preoccupied with trying to ignore the screams of the dying behind them, neither of the prisoners noticed when Hadvar drew up short, barely managing to avoid running into him before they saw him confronting the Stormcloak from earlier. Both men were apparently rather familiar with each other, if the expressions on their faces were anything to go by.

"Ralof, you d-mned traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar suddenly shouted, vindicating Therris' earlier belief that there was some personal history between them.

"We're escaping Hadvar; you're not stopping us this time." Ralof calmly countered, even as he readied himself for combat.

"Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" Hadvar shouted back before both men looked at Therris and Allasa. It took a moment, but Therris quickly realized what the problem was: both men wanted them to follow them, a sort of show of support…

This could be problematic as neither group had really endeared themselves all that well to him thus far. The Imperials had wanted to execute Allasa and him just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, without taking into account that Nords had little trust for Khajiit and Bosmer, meaning it was highly unlikely they would be working with either himself or Allasa. To say nothing of the fact that the captain who had been in charge of the executions had been rather eager to simply execute them. On the other hand, the Stormcloaks had so far shown a remarkable amount of callousness toward anyone but themselves and certainly had no problem letting others get caught up in the fallout of their actions. In fact, it seemed like they were more than willing to use the punishments of those unfortunate enough to suffer such a fate as proof they were justified in their actions. So it came down to a choice between a heavy-handed authoritarian empire or fanatical revolutionaries… joyous.

On the one hand, Hadvar was more likely to know where the keep's escape tunnel was and had access to weapons in addition to a way to free them; though since they were prisoners anyway and he was an Imperial soldier who obviously valued duty over other virtues, he might just keep them in shackles until they reached another Imperial outpost. Practically speaking though, doing so would present numerous problems, not even taking into consideration their current predicament, so the likelihood that he would leave them tied up was low. Especially if they played the good little 'law-abiding citizen' card rather than simply take any opportunity to escape like most criminals would. And, of course, even if he tried to haul them to the nearest Imperial outpost as 'prisoners,' they could always dispose of him. It would be unfortunate, but it would leave them free with the Imperials having to guess whether they all had died before they could escape. The current attack was certainly leaving enough dead where just assuming they had killed Hadvar and escaped would be unreasonable and an investigation into what happened to them impractical.

Conversely, following Ralof meant freedom at the cost of definitely ending up on the Empire's watch list if Hadvar survived, which there was no reason to assume he would not, considering they had already made it to the keep unscathed and his luck was never that good. Weapons and armor would also probably have to be scavenged from what might be left in the armory or from dead soldiers given that the Stormcloaks were unlikely to have smuggled any in on their person. Given that, Hadvar looked to be the better option, if just by a slim margin.

Mind made up and taking Allasa's hand, Therris followed after Hadvar as the soldier approached the entrance to the barracks, quickly making their way inside and into the relative safety the keep afforded them.

 **Author's Notes:**

Word Count: 6122

Date Posted: 8/17/2015

Last Edited: 8/17/2015

Well, here it is: the first chapter of my first Skyrim fan fiction, something of an experimental piece… hopefully you enjoy.

I should note that, due to the extensive lore of the Elder Scrolls, I am unlikely to remember everything and may make mistakes from time to time. So, with that out of the way and without further ado, I will cover just a couple things relating to Therris before wrapping this up…

First off, I understand that Cathay-raht have never explicitly been shown in any of the Elder Scrolls games, but what I have seen indicates that they are about the size and speed of the werewolves from Skyrim and have mottled pied fur and are very strong, fast, agile and good at jumping as well as being more beast-like than the Cathay. While Therris has black fur, this is because he suffers from melanism, a condition which is fairly common among jaguars and leopards considering we call such cats black panthers. Like in real life, Therris' fur is not matte black, but rather still retains the rosettes typical of jaguars, though they can only be seen if one looks at him closely.

The second issue, regarding Therris being digitigrade, might be a bit more vague… so some explanation is warranted I believe. Given that Cathay-raht are more beast-like than their Cathay cousins, I would consider it entirely possible that they do possess digitigrade legs rather than plantigrade legs like the Cathay. While that is hardly cause to believe they are digitigrade rather than plantigrade, the anatomical design – specifically the ligaments and muscular structure – of digitigrade leg structure generally promotes speed, agility and jumping ability, all of which the Cathay-raht are known for. In lieu of there being no canon depictions of Cathay-raht, I decided to go with the leg structure that makes the most sense for the canon physical abilities.

Well, that is all for now, next time is the escape from Helgen with Hadvar.


End file.
